


I love you, I love you, I can't live without you

by AmadeusRex



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Major character death but only for a hot second, Promnis Week, World of Ruin, maybe???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmadeusRex/pseuds/AmadeusRex
Summary: Prompto makes a confession in Ignis' final moments.Written for Promnis Week 2019 Day 2: One of them confesses their love during a life-or-death situation.





	I love you, I love you, I can't live without you

A scream. Garbled, mangled, suddenly cut off.

Prompto damn near gives himself whiplash turning his head around. He catches an imp on top of Ignis, scratching at his neck. One shot is all it takes to send it back to hell, but Ignis isn’t getting up.

Prompto rushes to his side and sees blood everywhere. It’s all down Ignis’ chest, some is even on his chin. Prompto starts to dab at it but Ignis hisses in pain when his neck is touched.

That’s when Prompto realizes that Ignis’ throat has been torn open.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Prompto says, more for himself than for Ignis, as he searches his pockets for something to heal him with. His heart drops when he finds only one bottle.

All he has is a half-used potion left over from when he fractured his ankle earlier in the hunt. He pours it over the gash with shaking hands, his stomach dropping as Ignis makes horrible gurgling noises. Prompto hopes the potion will at least close the wound, but all it does is staunch the bleeding a bit. He can see Ignis’ face relaxing in the worst way possible, every muscle in his body falling limp.

If Prompto was choking back tears before, he’s crying now.

He’s wiping away his tears, sure Ignis can hear him sniffling; but Prompto doesn’t need teardrops falling on a dying man.

Dying. Ignis is dying.

They don’t have any phoenix downs. They don’t have any more curatives. Prompto can’t even tourniquet Ignis’ wound because it could choke him. He rummages through his pockets again, desperate to find something, anything that could help, but it’s no use. He’s empty.

Ignis makes another noise, and more blood starts flowing. Prompto holds Ignis’ hands, brushes his thumb over his knuckles without noticing.

“Shh, Iggy, don’t talk, don’t talk.” Prompto starts crying harder now that he’s speaking. “Please, just try to stay with me. Please, please don’t go.”

Ignis manages to feebly squeeze Prompto’s hand. Prompto is reminded of all the years he spent pining after Ignis, wishing he could just hold his hand; this isn’t what he meant. How many years has it been? They met when he was fifteen, and now he’s twenty-seven. Gods, twelve years. Twelve years and now it’s going to stay twelve years forever.

The least he can do is let Ignis know.

“Ignis, I…I love you. Please, please don’t go.” Prompto’s breaths are coming sharp and quick at the end of each sentence. He’s given up on wiping his tears. “Please. Ever since we met, you’ve been the only one for me. No one could ever come close. I love you, I don’t want to live without you. Please, please stay with me. I love you so much. So, so much, so, so,  _so_ much.”

He’s not eloquent, but there’s no time to waste choosing words.

“Stay, stay,  _please_ stay. Noct needs you.  _I_ need you. Come on, please, please, I can’t imagine a life without you. I can’t live without you. You’re all I need. Please, please don’t go.”

Prompto is sobbing now. He tries to pull his hand away to wipe his face, but Ignis holds it down with what little strength he has. He brings Prompto’s hand to his lips, presses them against his knuckles in the lightest of kisses. Even now, with eyes unseeing, Ignis is looking Prompto dead in the eye, gaze piercing into the deepest part of his soul, as if he's trying to say a silent goodbye. And then Ignis’ heaving breaths stop, and his hand goes lax, and his eyes fade. He doesn’t have a pulse. And Prompto starts howling.

He holds Ignis’ head with his hands, closes his open eye. He brushes his thumbs over the scars on Ignis’ face, proof of his devotion, his loyalty. Prompto knows he never could have asked Ignis to split those between him and Noct, but a part of him always hoped. Now there’s no hope at all. Prompto’s almost screaming, catching his tears with one hand with the other clamped over his mouth. He chokes on every sob, coughing and sputtering to catch his breath. After what feels like ages, he hears voices from behind him. He turns around to see three other hunters coming toward him.

“Are you alright?” one calls out to him.

“Come, quick! I need a phoenix down!” Prompto manages to say. The hunters rush to his side.

“What happened?” one says as she passes Prompto a feather, warm to the touch. He places it in Ignis’ hands, hoping, praying he’ll wake up. Down can work even if it’s been a few minutes since death. Prompto hopes it hasn’t been a few too many.

“His, his throat.” Prompto’s still breathing hard as nothing happens. He watches as one of the hunters pulls out a roll of gauze and gingerly wraps some around Ignis’ neck. Then there’s a sudden light, and warmth, now alien in the long night, washes over Prompto and the hunters. Ignis is surrounded by flame, and when they die down, he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Prompto would have started crying again if he hadn’t already run himself dry.

“Ignis….” And he wants nothing more than to hold him, but he’s too afraid of hurting him more. Two of the hunters leave to get their truck, and the last stays with Prompto to patch Ignis up a little more. They soak his neck with a hi-potion until the truck arrives. When it does, Ignis is loaded gingerly into the bed, with a makeshift pillow of jackets to cushion his head.

Prompto doesn’t let go of Ignis’ hand once during the drive to Lestallum.

 

* * *

 

Five days later, Ignis has recovered enough to do everything but talk. He can rasp out a few words at a time, but stays silent for the most part.

Six days later, he speaks.

“Prompto,” he calls from his bed one morning. Prompto is at his side in a flash. Ignis is sitting up, holding his hands in his lap, picking under his fingernails.

“What’s wrong, Iggy?” Prompto asks, resting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis can hear the worry in his friend’s voice.

“Nothing, Prompto, don’t worry.” Ignis wills his hands to be still. “I just wanted to ask you about…the other day.” He feels Prompto’s hand tense up, feels his own body start to stiffen with anxiety.

Prompto had said he loved him. As Ignis lay dying, Prompto had thought to confess that  _he loved him_. Ignis, unable to do anything else, had kissed his hand; Prompto probably thought that was just a goodbye. But Ignis had felt the same as Prompto; ever since their first meeting, he’d pined away for him, heart yearning to love and be loved in return. He’d wanted nothing more than to hold Prompto, to just be with him. He had fooled himself into being content with their current situation, but he can fool himself no longer. Ignis looks up, turning to face Prompto as best he can. He takes Prompto’s hands in his own. He kisses them again.

“I feel the same.”

Prompto doesn’t move. Ignis is afraid—of what, he’s not sure—and lets go of Prompto’s hands. They move to hold Ignis’ face ever so gently. Prompto leans forward to rest his forehead against Ignis’. He lets out a small, shaky laugh. He is smiling, speechless.

Ignis kisses him. It is short, chaste, and twelve years in the making. When he pulls his lips away, he stays with his forehead pressed against Prompto’s, noses touching. He takes the moment to say what he’s always wanted to.

“I love you.”


End file.
